


Saavik Oneshots

by GenericUsername01



Series: What Makes a Family [2]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, Mostly fluff though, there's very little angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-01-10
Packaged: 2019-03-02 04:14:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 15,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13310199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GenericUsername01/pseuds/GenericUsername01
Summary: Little snippets from Saavik's life growing up on the Starship Enterprise. Can be read as a standalone.





	1. Birthday Party

**Author's Note:**

> I have never had or been to a birthday party in my life, so I apologize for any inaccuracies because I am entirely guessing as to how they actually go and all I know is from what I've seen on tv

The transporter beam shimmered into existence one person and an equal-sized mountain of luggage. 

“Joey!” Saavik shrieked. 

“Savvy!” Came the responding cry. Joanna McCoy ran off the transporter pad and tackled her friend in a hug. The girls’ parents looked on bemusedly. 

“What, don’t I get a hug too?” Bones asked. 

“Of course, Dad,” Joanna said, breaking the embrace to go hug her father. His ever-present scowl melted into a soft smile. Jim grinned brighter than the sun. 

This was Joanna’s second visit since Saavik had come aboard the Enterprise. The two girls had become fast friends on her last one, and so this one was coincidentally arranged to fall on the same week as Saavik’s birthday.  

They didn’t know when Saavik’s actual birthday was. That information was lost forever in an abandoned compound back on Hellguard. But they did know what day it was that they had rescued her. As of tomorrow at 0924 hours, Saavik will have been a free person for exactly one year. And that was as good a birthday as any. 

* * *

 

“Psst! Saavik!” Joanna whispered later that night. “Are you awake?” 

“We’re supposed to be sleeping,” she whispered back. 

“I know, but this is important.” 

“Then why didn’t you say it earlier?” 

“’Cuz I forgot.” She crawled out of her sleeping bag and picked her way over to a suitcase, rummaging through it. “Here it is!” she said, pulling out two items that it was too dark to see and plopping down on Saavik’s bed victoriously. 

“What is it?” Saavik asked, scooching forward eagerly. Her night vision was pretty good once it had a few seconds to adjust, and now she could make out two short braids woven out of thick, colorful thread. 

“Friendship bracelets!” She continued to stare blankly. Joanna’s face fell. “You don’t know what that is.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“No, it’s okay,” she said. “A friendship bracelet is an Earth thing. You make two that look exactly the same, and wear one yourself and give the other to one of your friends. That way everyone can tell that you’re friends. And once you tie them on, they can’t come off, ever, not unless you destroy them.” 

“Does that mean we’re gonna be friends forever?” 

“Yeah! Now you get it!” 

She thought of her parents placing rings on each other’s fingers and vowing to stick together as long as they both shall live. Jewelry, hands, the promise of forever. That seemed to be an important rite of passage in any relationship involving humans. 

“So it’s like the friendship equivalent of wedding rings?” 

“Uh. Sorta?” She wasn’t quite sure what ‘equivalent’ meant, even though she was the one who was in second grade here. She shrugged and tied the bracelet onto Saavik’s wrist. 

Saavik regarded the little thing with wonder. It had a complicated zigzag pattern in pink and white and red. It fit loose around her wrist; she could easily tug it off if she wanted to. She, however, did not want to. 

“Thou hast honored me,” she said solemnly. Joanna snorted.  

“You’re so  _weird,”_  she said, pulling her in for a hug. 

* * *

 

“Happy birthday to you, 

Happy birthday to you, 

Happy birthday dear Saavik, 

Happy birthday to you!” 

“Now you blow out the candles and make a wish!” Jim said. He was frankly more excited than the birthday girl. 

Saavik looked at him dubiously but nevertheless blew out the candles. Seven tiny flames flicked out in an instant. Her guests cheered, and McCoy moved to cut out squares of white cake and blue frosting and confetti ice cream, serving them up on paper plates. T’Manda squealed and gurgled happily from where she was sitting on Spock’s lap. 

“What did you wish for?” Joanna asked, bouncing on her heels. 

“No! Don’t tell her! It ruins the magic!” Tommy said. Saavik gasped and turned to her friend, betrayed. 

“Hey! Now it’s time to open presents!” Jim clapped his hands together. The children were instantly distracted by the prospect of a new activity. 

“You have to open mine first!” Tommy insisted, shoving a box into her hands. The thing had air holes poked into it, Jim noted with a sense of oncoming dread. Saavik squealed and tore open the box to reveal… a tribble. 

Fuck. 

“Tommy,” he said. “A tribble is a big responsibility. They’re a lot of work. Does your mother know you gave Saavik a tribble?” 

“It was her idea,” he said, confusion clear on his face. 

Of course it was. She was still mad that Jim had shown her up at her own Homeschoolers’ Association bake sale, wasn’t she? Well, whatever. So what if it had taken five tries and eventual help from Spock? He’d had the best brownies there, better than stupid Karen’s by a longshot. Plus Spock had gotten drunk taste-testing the failures—which was  _hilarious—_ so it was a win all around. 

And now what was he supposed to do? Take the cute, fluffy little tribble away from his seven-year-old daughter? No. He couldn’t. The thing was  _purring._  Saavik already looked like she was in love with it. 

“Twenty credits the thing isn’t fixed and is already pregnant,” McCoy muttered. 

“I’m gonna name her Fluffy!” Saavik said. 

“Open mine next!” Joanna said. 

“Okay!” She did, then frowned at the gift in confusion. “It’s a… fake human?” 

“It’s a  _doll,”_  she said. “You play with them and make them go on adventures and wear pretty clothes and stuff. It’s fun. I’ll show you later.” 

“Okay.” 

Her next gift came from Chekov. It was a purple teddy bear half the size of her—a Russian invention, for real this time, he swears it. It took a while to explain to her the function of a teddy bear, but once they had, she hugged it tightly to her chest and declared it ‘adequately fluffy.’ 

McCoy went next, presenting her with the smallest box in the stack. “It’s playing cards,” he said. “I’m gonna teach ya how to play poker. You’ll love it, trust me. If you’re anything like your father, you’ll already have the ideal poker face down.” 

Saavik and Spock each raised an eyebrow in perfect unison, and the entire bridge crew laughed. “See? That’s exactly what I mean!” 

“Saavik and I are not biologically related, and furthermore, I fail to see how conforming to Vulcan culture would aid in the playing of poker—“ 

“Spock, if you don’t get it, I can’t help you,” McCoy said. 

“Saavik! Why don’t you open Scotty’s gift next?” Jim cut in. 

“Okay!” she said. Scotty handed her a flat, gift-wrapped box which she soon tore open. 

“It’s a joke book,” Scotty said proudly. “Aye, I’ve got the perfect one for this age group of kids. Why was six afraid of seven?” he asked, pointing at Tommy and Saavik in turn. Joanna rolled her eyes. 

“I’m not afraid Savvy,” Tommy said, confusion clear on his face. 

“Because seven  _eight_  nine!” Now several of the adults in the room groaned and rolled their eyes as well. 

“But none of us is nine,” Joanna said. 

“Aye, and why do you think that is?” Scotty winked. Saavik looked appalled. 

“I-I would  _never—“_  

“Aye, I know lass, I was just messin’ with ya,” he said, ruffling her hair. It was longer now, and fell just above her shoulders. She kept the curls pulled back with a butterfly clip on each side. 

Uhura’s gift was one of the larger boxes and it turned out to be a stack of books. 

“It’s the first ten books in the Boxcar Children series, translated into Romulan. You’ve been doing very well with your Standard, but there’s nothing quite like reading something in your first language, is there?” she said. “I know it’s a little advanced for a first grader, but so are you. I thought you might like to see if you could figure out the mysteries before the characters in the books do.” 

“Thank you, Uhura-an,” Saavik said, giving her a hug. Uhura returned the embrace with a fond smile. 

“Saavik, I’ve known you for a full year now. You are my favorite and only student. You’re practically a niece to me. You can call me Nyota.” 

“What?!” Jim croaked. “She can call you Nyota but I can’t?” 

“You can when you’re as cute as she is.” 

“Um—“ 

“No, Kirk.” 

“What’s the next gift?” Joanna asked impatiently. 

Jim and Spock glanced at each other. 

“We got you two gifts,” Jim said. “One is really big, one is sorta small, both are equally cool.” 

“Debatable,” Spock murmured. 

“Which one do you want to open first?” Jim asked, ignoring him. 

“Ooh, do the big one!” Tommy said. 

“No, save the big one for last!” Joanna said. 

Saavik considered it. “I wanna open the big one.” 

“Great!” Jim said, and dragged out a present that was literally bigger than she was. The children’s eyes bugged out. Joanna and Tommy started clamoring for Saavik to open it, and she ripped off the wrapping paper and opened the box (which she was actually able to do without a knife or help or anything, thanks to her Romulan/Vulcan strength) to unveil a glistening new bike. 

It was pale blue with white lightning streaks on the side and a wicker basket up front, decorated with star stickers. Gold and silver ribbons hung down from the handles, and it had training wheels to match. 

Saavik looked at it with awe, and then turned to her dad questioningly. 

“It’s a bike!” Jim beamed. “I’m gonna teach you how to ride it. Now when I tell you to run and hide during a red alert, you’ll be able to do it so much faster. Just don’t—Try not to knock into too many people in the halls.” 

“A bike, Jim? Really? She lives in space,” McCoy said quietly. 

“It is not logical to deny Saavik the pleasures of a normal childhood simply because she does not have the privilege of living planetside as other children do,” Spock said. 

“Yeah. See Bones? It’s logical,” Jim said. He turned back to Saavik. “And now for your final and fanciest gift…” 

Spock presented her with a slender package, somewhat ceremoniously. Sensing that this gift was different, Saavik opened it carefully, slowly. 

It was a necklace. 

More specifically, it was a chain of wrought metal link with a heavy black pendant hanging down the center, Vulcan calligraphy etched into it in silver. 

“S’chn T’Gai?” Saavik read. 

“It is my clan name. Our clan name,” he said. “Typically, on their seventh birthday, a Vulcan child undergoes the kahs-wan. After successful completion, they are declared a mature Vulcan. However, since you are not taking the kahs-wan—“ 

“—because it’s ridiculously dangerous—“ 

“—I deemed it appropriate to present this to you now, without any conditions. This marks you as a member of our clan in full. You are Saavik Kirk, of the House of Spock, of the clan of S’chn T’Gai.” 

He took the necklace out of its case and latched it around her neck. It was heavy and cool against her throat, fitting fairly close. She touched the pendant delicately. 

“Thou hast honored me,” she said. 

Spock’s face warmed into something close to a smile. “No, Saavik,” he said. “Thou hast honored me.” 


	2. T'Manda

Jim didn’t know why he decided to go visit the orphanage. Maybe it was nostalgia and he wanted to see the place where he had adopted Saavik one more time. Maybe it was just instinct, telling him that he was needed there. Either way, it was the first place he went after Sarek’s house during his family leave on New Vulcan.

He sat in the playroom and colored pictures with some eight- and nine-year-olds. He sang “You Are My Sunshine” to a toddler. He asked the older kids what they wanted to be when they grew up, and answered teenagers’ questions about humans and what Earth was like. He let a twelve-year-old try on his Starfleet badge and told a whole group of kids grand stories of his adventures.

Then they let him hold a baby and for the third time in his life, Jim Kirk fell in love.

“She’s so tiny. Is she supposed to be this tiny?” he asked.

“She is an average infant size,” the worker assured him.

“What’s her name?”

“She has no name yet. We have found that parents often prefer to name newborns themselves. We refer to her as Infant Number 7.”

Infant Number 7 gurgled up at him and laughed when he tickled her tummy.

* * *

 

“Okay, Spock, so I went to the orphanage.”

“Indeed?”

“Uh-huh. And I met this baby. And I think we should adopt her,” he said. “I have a list of reasons why that is a totally logical thing to do. Number one: Saavik needs a sibling. She—“

“Jim,” Spock said. “I am open to the idea of adopting another child. I have been considering broaching the subject with you for some time now.”

“Really?” he asked, ecstatic.

“Affirmative,” he said, bemused. “I would like to meet this child that you have selected. I believe Saavik would as well.”

* * *

 

“Why are we coming back here?” Saavik asked. “Are you sending me back?”

“No! No, of course not. Why would you think that?”

She shrugged.

“We’re just taking you here to meet someone.” He stopped and knelt in front of her. “Saavik. How would you feel about having a new baby sister?” 

Her eyes lit up with wonder, and she nodded enthusiastically. Jim grinned and led his daughter and husband into the nursery.

Despite being called Infant Number 7, there was only two other babies currently in there, and she was easy enough to find. Saavik peered into the little box curiously.

“Can I hold her?” she asked.

“Sure. Be careful. Remember to support her head,” Jim said, lifting the baby out and handing her over. Saavik held her like she was a delicate, precious thing. The baby blinked up at her with large, black eyes.

“What’s her name?” she whispered.

“She doesn’t have one yet. We get to pick it out,” Jim said. “Any suggestions?”

“As she is Vulcan, it would be prudent to name her according to Vulcan tradition,” Spock said.

“It should be an Earth name too,” Saavik said. “That way she has both.”

“Hey, I’ve got an idea,” Jim said, turning to Spock. “What if we named her after your mother? T’Manda.”

“T’Manda,” Spock repeated. “It is a beautiful name.”

“Welcome home, T’Manda. My name is Saavik. I’m gonna be your big sister,” she said.

* * *

 

When T’Manda was five, she decided she wanted to grow out her hair to be “long like Savvy’s.” Fortunately for her, Saavik had just recently learned to braid and her sister became her favorite hairstyling doll.

“What do you think?” she asked, handing her a mirror. T’Manda held it up and inspected her hair.

“Needs more bows,” she said.

“You already have twelve bows,” Saavik said.

“Not enough,” T’Manda insisted.

“That many bows is illogical.”

 _“You’re_  illogical!”

“I am not!” she said. “Dad! T’Manda called me illogical!”

“Girls, be nice to each other,” Jim called from the other room. T’Manda stuck her tongue out, and Saavik huffed indignantly, taking her remaining bows with her.

An hour later, they had ice cream and Saavik put every bow they owned into T’Manda’s hair. It looked awful. T’Manda loved it.

* * *

 

“T’Manda!” Saavik called. “Where’s my purple shirt?”

“I do not know,” she said, keeping her eyes trained on her book.

“It doesn’t even fit you. You’re twelve, I’m eighteen.”

“It fits me sort of.”

“T’Manda. I have a date tonight. I need my purple shirt. Where is it?”

She rubbed the back of her neck guiltily. “It is perhaps in the wash.”

“Ugh!”

“You don’t understand, I  _needed_  to borrow it.”

“It’s not ‘borrowing’ if you don’t ask permission first,” she said. “And why?”

T’Manda turned back to her book, eyes fixed on the page determinedly. “Jason said it made me look pretty.”

“Jason? Jason Schwarz? Jason-with-the-weird-hair Jason?”

“His hair is not  _weird.”_

“Oh my god,” Saavik said, because  _no._  That was so gross. Her little sister was way too young to be having a crush on some greasy guy.

She would need to make sure he understood that if he broke her heart, he would have to answer to her. 

* * *

 

Saavik knocked on her sister’s door and entered without waiting for an answer.

“By all means, come in,” T’Manda said dryly.

“Father tells me you intend to go through with the telan t’kanlar.”

“I do,” she said.

_“Why?”_

She sat down on her bed. “It is a logical choice. I may not be able to find a suitable mate before my first pon farr. This way ensures that I will, and that we will be compatible.”

“You’re taking the easy way out.”

“You are making things unnecessarily hard for yourself.”

“No, I am choosing love over convenience.”

“You assume my marriage would be loveless. Our parents married for convenience and love grew out of that. Almost every Vulcan pair is matched in this way and the system continues to function quite adequately.”

“Maybe I desire more than simply ‘adequate.’ I assumed you thought the same.”

“I do. You know full well what I mean by adequate. Just because my match will be arranged rather than discovered does not mean it is any less desirable. If anything, I can expect greater, assured compatibility than you can. You are leaving your lifemate up to chance. I cannot see the logic in that.”

“I cannot see the logic in your decision,” Saavik countered.

“I am not asking you to. I simply request that you keep your disapproval to yourself. This is my life, and I will make my own choices.”

* * *

 

The three of them filed into the auditorium and took their seats. Friends and parents of the graduates were quickly filling the rows. The commencement began.

The Andorian Academy of the Arts. The finest school of its type within the entire Federation. T’Manda had just earned her degree in Transcultural Music Theory. She was the first Kirk in three generations to not go into Starfleet, but her parents couldn’t be prouder. She was already a fairly accomplished composer and musician, set to join the Deltan Planetary Orchestra upon graduation.

Her bondmate had divorced her when he found out.

He had already thought she was too contaminated by human culture—a somehow less than pure Vulcan for having a mixed species family and growing up on a starship. Accepting an offworld job offer had been the final nail in the coffin.

Jim had had some choice words for him.

He had never liked that guy.

She had refused to cry, because that would be just as un-Vulcan as he expected her to be. Saavik had sat by her side for hours anyway, a comforting presence. Then she had offered to go beat him up for her.

T’Manda stood up and gave her acceptance speech and took her diploma and her family cheered for her.

* * *

 

Deltans were a psionic species too, and they gave off the most powerful pheromones in the galaxy, more powerful even than Orions’. T’Manda had to take repellants every day in the morning.

When she first met N’Noom, she went to the doctor, assuming her prescription needed to be adjusted. It didn’t.

She considered the situation and decided to research Deltan mating customs. They were intriguing, to say the least. Apparently almost all interactions in their society are focused around sex and the chasing of sensation. It was said that all of their senses were greatly heightened above the standard, and thus gave them greater pleasure in all aspects of life. Their touch had the ability to alleviate pain, and it was said that after having sex with a Deltan, no other species could ever possibly compare.

Also their foreplay was entirely psychic in nature. T’Manda didn’t know why that particular pit of information had been included but now she couldn’t stop thinking about it.

She had learned early on that flirting was the norm in Deltan culture—to refrain from it was actually an insult. So she had no clue what to make of the fact that N’Noom flirted with her. She knew he would gladly have sex with her if she asked, but that was not all that she wanted, and so she kept her distance.

Relatively.

She still didn’t know what to expect when he took her out under the stars one night and asked her to be his bride.

She said yes.


	3. Kobayashi Maru Redux

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These scenes are taken from the Wrath of Khan. The timeline in this fic jumps around a bit, so David has a line in this chapter but doesn't get formally introduced until later.

“Captain’s log, stardate 8130.3. Starship Enterprise on training mission to Gamma Hydra, Section 14, coordinates 22-87-4. Approaching Neutral Zone. All systems normal and functioning,” Saavik spoke into the recording device.

“Leaving Section 14 for Section 15,” Sulu announced from the helm.

She whirled around in the captain’s chair, only slightly dramatically. “Stand by. Project parabolic course to avoid entering Neutral Zone.”

“Aye Captain,” he said. Her heart jumped at that word. ‘Captain.’ “Course change projected.”

“Captain, I’m getting something on the distress channel,” Uhura said.

“On speakers,” Saavik said calmly. Confidently.

A staticky voice crackled through the comms. “This is the Kobayashi Maru, 19 periods out of Altair VI. We have struck a gravitic mine and have lost all power. Our hull is penetrated and we have sustained many casualties—“ There was now more static than there was words.

“This is the Starship Enterprise. Your message is breaking up. Can you give us your coordinates?” Uhura asked. “Repeat, this is the Starship—“

“Enterprise, our position is Gamma Hydra, Section 10.”

“In the Neutral Zone,” Saavik said, unimpressed. Of course.

“Hull penetrated, life support systems failing. Can you assist us, Enterprise? Can you assist us?”

“Data on Kobayashi Maru,” she commanded the computer.

“Subject vessel is third class neutronic fuel carrier, crew of 81, 300 passengers.”

“Damn,” she breathed. “Mr. Sulu? Plot an intercept course.”

“May I remind the captain that if a starship enters the Zone—“

“I’m aware of my responsibilities, mister,” she said coolly. He rolled his eyes and turned back to his station. They always made that same mistake, every time. Letting the crew of the Kobayashi Maru die was still a failure, of course, but at least it didn’t start a war in the process.

“Estimating two minutes to intercept,” he said. “Now entering the Neutral Zone.”

“Warning. We have entered Neutral Zone,” the computer said.

“We are now in violation of treaty, Captain,” Spock said.

“Stand by, transporter room, ready to beam survivors aboard,” she said, pressing a button on the arm of her chair.

“Captain! I’ve lost their signal,” Uhura said. 

“Alert. Sensors indicate three Klingon cruisers, bearing 316 mark 4. Closing fast,” the computer announced.

“Visual,” she snapped. And sure enough, the viewscreen showed the ships closing in on them. “Battle stations. Activate shields.” A red light overhead bathed the room and a siren began blaring.

Saavik estimated her heart rate was increased by 12.4%.

“Inform the Klingons we are on a rescue mission,” she said.

“They’re jamming all the frequencies, Captain.”

“Klingons on attack course and closing,” came the computer’s monotone.

“We’re over our heads. Mr. Sulu, get us out of here.”

“I’ll try, Captain.”

“Alert. Klingon torpedoes activated. Alert.”

“Evasive action!” she stood.

A blast of orange came straight at them and Sulu’s station exploded in smoke and sparks, knocking his body to the ground in a heap. Saavik reeled.

“Engineering, damage report.” Did they really need this many sirens? It couldn’t possibly aid anyone’s focus, and they seemed especially jarring to species with more sensitive hearing.

“Main energizer hit, Captain,” Scotty said.

“Engage auxiliary power. Prepare to return fire.”

Bones was rushing to Sulu’s side when a second blast hit the ship. Uhura cried out and fell back limp in her chair as her station blew up right in her face.

“Shields collapsing, Captain,” a cadet told her.

They needed to turn off that damn whirring. It was panic-inducing.

McCoy left Sulu to check on Uhura when yet another torpedo hit the top of the ship and a blast from the ceiling knocked him down dead.

She made an executive decision.

“Fire all phasers.”

“No power to the weapons, Captain,” Spock said. Then every station seemed to explode all at once and he too was felled.

She was the last one standing, alone, in the center of the bridge.

“Captain, it’s no use. We’re dead in space,” Scotty’s voice found her over the intercom. An explosion sounded in the distance.

She pressed a button. “Activate escape pods. Send out the log buoy. All hands abandon ship. Repeat, all hands abandon ship.”

“Alright, open her up,” Jim’s voice cut through the simulation. One of the “walls” of the bridge moved and he stepped through in a haze of light and smoke. Saavik stood.

The alarms stopped.

“Any suggestions, Admiral?”

“Prayer, Mr. Saavik. The Klingons don’t take prisoners,” he said. “Lights.”

“Captain?” he asked, looking at his former first officer, who quirked an eyebrow and rose from the dead.

“Trainees,” Spock said. “To the briefing room.” The cadets in the room rose and exited the simulator, following at his command for their evaluation.

It was unusual to have actual crewmen participate in a training sim—much less the entire senior bridge crew of a starship. Usually the simulator was filled with other cadets playing all of the essential roles, but the Enterprise’s bridge crew had all insisted on being there for Saavik. She was the first cadet in all of Starfleet’s history to have that happen.

She was also one of the only students who had a parent as one of their professors, and you would think that would make things easier for her, but it did not. Spock was a hard-ass of a professor and he showed no favoritism.

But Jim was her commanding admiral and he sure as hell did and everybody knew it.

She garnered equal parts envy and resentment at the Academy. She took legacy student to a whole new level.

“Physician, heal thyself,” Jim said dramatically, standing over Bones where he lounged on the floor in the least convincing ‘dead’ pose ever.

“Is that all you have to say? What about my performance?” the doctor asked.

“I’m not a drama critic,” he said, reveling in Bones’ frown as he crossed over the bridge to his daughter. “Well Mr. Saavik, are you going to stay with the sinking ship?” She was the only cadet still in the room, frozen at the center of the bridge.

“Permission to speak candidly, sir?”

“Granted,” he shrugged.

“I don’t believe this was a fair test of my command abilities.”

“And why not?” 

“Because there was no way to win.”

“A no-win situation is a possibility every commander may face. Has that never occurred to you?”

Watching him? Growing up on the Enterprise? Of course not. There was always a way out, there was always some miracle solution that Kirk would think of at the last second to save everybody. Sometimes some redshirts died, but she was aware of that on the periphery, in a distant, dulled sort of way. The Enterprise was safety to her, and it always had been.

“No, sir. It has not.”

“How we deal with death is at least as important as how we deal with life, wouldn’t you say?”

She didn’t ‘deal’ with death, she ignored that it kept happening to those around her and that was how she kept functioning.

“As I indicated, Admiral, that thought had not occurred to me.” Her voice held tight control.

“Well, now you have something new to think about. Carry on.”

* * *

 

“Hold, please,” Saavik called just as Jim was getting into the turbolift the next day. He had decided to liven up the boring inspection he had to give by not doing it and taking the cadets out on a training cruise instead.

Saavik ran into the turbolift, and Jim bit down the years-honed impulse to tell her not to run in the halls. “Thank you, sir.”

Very professional. They were on duty. Admiral and lieutenant, not father and daughter.

“Lieutenant, are you wearing your hair differently?” he asked. It was loose and straightened, though still pulled back as always to show off her pointed ears, the sign of her heritage that she wore like a badge of honor.

“It’s still regulation, Admiral,” she said, flipping it over her shoulder. He nodded, hiding a smile.

She reached over and pressed the button to stop the turbolift. “May I speak, sir?”

“Self-expression doesn’t seem to be one of your problems,” he said. Not anymore. She didn’t reply and he looked at her intently. “You’re bothered by your performance on the Kobayashi Maru.”

“I failed to resolve the situation.”

“There is no correct resolution. It’s a test of character.”

“May I ask how you dealt with the test?”

“Uh…” He laughed a little bit awkwardly and hit the button to let the turbolift move again. “You may ask.”

Those were mixed signals.

“That’s a little joke,” he explained.

Ah. Jim frequently told jokes that Saavik and T’Manda simply did not understand. He claimed this was a right of all Earth fathers, which was another statement his family did not understand.

“Humor. It is a difficult concept,” she said flatly. Jim smiled. “It is not logical.”

“We learn by doing,” he said. Just then, the doors opened to reveal a very irritated Dr. McCoy.

“Who’s been holding up the damn elevator?” he asked, looking pointedly at his best friend.

* * *

 

“May I ask you a question?” Saavik approached him later, in the Genesis cave on Regula, when things gad finally calmed down for half a second.

“What’s on your mind, Saavik?”

“The Kobayashi Maru.”

“Are you asking me if we’re playing out that scenario now?”

“On the test, Dad, will you tell me what you did? I would really like to know.”

“Saavik, you are looking at the only Starfleet cadet who ever beat the no-win scenario,” Bones said.

“How?” she asked.

“I reprogrammed the simulation so it was possible to rescue the ship.”

She frowned deeply. “What?”

David snorted. “He cheated.”

“I changed the conditions of the test,” Jim said. “I got in a little bit of trouble, but in the end, I got a commendation for original thinking. I don’t like to lose.”

“Then you never faced that situation, faced death?” Saavik asked accusingly.

“I don’t believe in the no-win scenario,” he said, the trace of a smirk in his voice, like always. Saavik seethed silently. How dare he. What the hell was that lecture on the bridge, then, about the importance of facing death if he had never actually done it? What a hypocrite. He expected Saavik to learn lessons that he himself had found loopholes to get out of?

Why hadn’t she thought of that.


	4. Tommy's Wedding

“How do I look?” Tom turned around from the mirror, facing her. Saavik inspected his tux with a calculating eye.

“The suit is acceptable, but have you considered shaving your head?” she asked.

“Ha ha. I think I’ll go as a human to my wedding, not a Romulan, thank you very much,” he said. “And don’t act like you don’t like my hair; everyone knows you have a thing for blonds.”

“Even if I did have ‘a thing’ for blondes—which I do not—my tastes lie with women, not men, which you are fully aware of,” she said. He rolled his eyes, smiling.

She totally had a thing for blondes.

“Here, let me fix your tie. Can’t have my best man standing up at my side looking like a slob,” he said. He adjusted her tie, and she straightened her suit jacket.

“You ready for this?” she asked.

He sucked in a breath. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

“You’ll do fine, Tommy,” she said. He grimaced at the old nickname.

“Thanks,  _Savvy,”_  he returned. She raised an eyebrow and walked out of the dressing room at his side.

* * *

 

“I now pronounce you man and wife!”

The couple kissed, and the entire audience stood and cheered.

* * *

 

Saavik stood up at banquet table, clinking her spoon against the glass of Terran champagne. “It is to my understanding that an essential part of the Terran wedding tradition is the best man giving a speech which includes humorous or embarrassing stories about the groom. It is my honor to now fulfill that duty.”

“Oh god,” Tom muttered, audible only to her and his new wife. Saavik flashed him a grin.

“I remember the first time I met Tommy. I was six, and he was five. He had never met a Vulcan before, and so he didn’t know any better and he grabbed me by the hand. I broke his nose. So naturally, we became best friends.”

A few in the audience laughed, and Tom gawked at her in mock betrayal. It had not been funny at the time, but it was immensely funny now, years down the line.

“And of course there was that time that Tom’s mother arranged a ‘school’ dance for all of us Enterprise kids and then forbade me from dancing with him. Tom didn’t dance with a single person all night. He cried for a week.” Saavik looked directly at Karen while saying this, who looked like she had just swallowed a lemon.

“I think that’s enough,” Karen said, standing up.

“No, wait, I’m not finished—“

“Please sit down,” she smiled tightly. Saavik looked at Tom, who had his eyes closed, rubbing his temple.

“Okay, just—“ she said. “Tom is my best friend. I’ve seen him at his worst, I’ve seen him at his best, I’ve seen him with Julia and I’ve seen him without her. May you both live long and prosper.”

* * *

 

“That was some speech you gave,” Tom said as they danced a few hours later.

“I am unfamiliar with human standards for wedding speeches. Was it acceptable?”

“That bit at the end was really good.”

“Thank you,” she said. “I apologize if I caused you embarrassment. I was under the impression that I was supposed to.”

“No, no, you didn’t embarrass me. It was just my mom making a scene that was embarrassing. I’m sorry about that.”

“I, too, apologize.”

He smiled and remembered their conversation in sickbay on that eventful day they first met. “Since we’re both sorry, how about we both be un-sorry and be friends instead?”

Saavik’s eyes lit up with mirth, and she answered with her responding line. “Okay.”


	5. David Marcus, Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is mostly taken from the Wrath of Khan, so obviously it isn't compliant with Into Darkness, unless you headcanon Khan coming back in fifteen years, out for blood. It doesn't completely comply with Wrath of Khan either though, because I've decided Spock gets to peacefully continue living out his life and instead Khan kills a tribble, on accident. Sorry if this is hard to follow.

“Well, don’t have kittens. Genesis is going to work,” David said, stepping out of the command room with his mother. “They’ll remember you in one breath with Newton, Einstein, Surak,” he said grandiosely.

“Thanks a lot. No respect from my offspring,” she said.

“Par for the course,” he replied easily. “Are you teaming up with me for bridge after dinner?”

“Maybe. What is it?” she asked. She knew her son well.

He sighed. “Every time we have dealings with Starfleet, I get nervous. We are dealing with something that could be perverted into a dreadful weapon. Remember that overgrown Boy Scout you used to hang around with? That’s exactly the kind of man—“

“Listen, kiddo. Jim Kirk was many things, but he was never a Boy Scout.”

* * *

 

“Ah, Dr. Marcus. Good. We’re en route to you and should be there in three days,” Chekov said.

“En route? Why? We weren’t expecting you for another three months. Has something happened?” she asked into the miniature vidscreen.

“Nothing has happened. Ceti Alpha VI has checked out.”

“Then I don’t understand why you’re—“

“We have received new orders. Upon our arrival at Regula I, all materials of Project Genesis will be transferred to this ship for immediate testing on Ceti Alpha VI.” He couldn’t seem to stop smiling. The scientists erupted into protests, and Dr. Marcus had to call for quiet.

“Commander Chekov, this is completely irregular.”

“I have my orders,” he grinned.

“Who gave the order?” David asked.

Khan. Khan and his special sandworms that burrowed into the ear canal and wrapped themselves around Chekov and Captain Terrell’s brains and made them extremely susceptible to suggestion.

“The order comes from…” A stroke of genius hit him. “Admiral James T. Kirk.”

“I knew it!” David hit the desk. “I knew it! All along, the military’s wanted to get—“

“This is completely improper, Commander Chekov,” Carol said. “I have no intention of allowing Reliant or any other unauthorized personnel access to our work or materials.”

“I’m sorry that you feel that way, Doctor. Admiral Kirk’s orders are confirmed. Please prepare to deliver Genesis to us upon our arrival. Reliant out.” He ended the transmission. Khan pushed himself off the wall he had been leaning on just out of view and snaked an arm over the back of Chekov’s chair.

“Well done, Commander,” he simpered.

“You realize, sir, they will attempt to contact Admiral Kirk and confirm the order,” Chekov said. Khan nodded. Of course.

* * *

 

“Jim, can you read me?” Carol asked. The vidscreen was flickering in and out in sections.

“I can hear you, Carol. What’s wrong? What’s the matter?”

“Why are you taking Genesis away from us?”

“Taking Genesis? Who’s taking Genesis?” There sure was an awful lot of interference. 

“I can see you but I can’t hear,” she said.

“Carol—“

“Jim, did you give the order?”

“What order? Who’s taking Genesis?”

“Please help us, Jim. I will not let them have Genesis without proper authorization!”

“Have Genesis? Who’s taking—“

“On whose authority can they do this?”

“No one’s authority!”

“Jim, please—“

“Uhura, what’s happening?” They were having two one-way conversations.

“Transmission jammed at the source, sir.”

“Alert Starfleet Headquarters.”

“Aye sir.”

“I want to talk to Starfleet Command.” He didn’t like the sound of this.

* * *

 

“Quiet! We must have order in here,” Dr. Marcus called over the din of angry scientists at the Regula I station. “This has to be some sort of mistake.”

“Mistake! We’re all alone here. They waited until everyone was on leave to do this,” David said. “Reliant is supposed to be at our disposal, not vice-versa. It seems clear Starfleet never intended—“

“I know that, but—“

“David, you were right,” another man cut in.

“I tried to tell you before. Scientists have  _always_  been pawns of the military.”

“Starfleet has kept the peace for a hundred years,” Carol said. “I cannot and will not subscribe to your interpretation of this event.”

“You may be right, Doctor. But what about Reliant? She’s on her way,” a man said.

* * *

 

“Mr. Scott? Do you have enough power for transporters?”

“Barely, sir.” The firefight against the Reliant had left them badly wounded and caused the death of a young cadet. His blood was still smeared on Kirk’s chest. There hasn’t been time to change yet.

“I’m going down there,” he said.

“Khan could be down there,” McCoy said.

“He’s been there. Hasn’t found what he wants,” he said. “Can you spare someone? There may be people hurt.”

“Yeah, I can spare me,” Bones folded his arms. He’ll be damned if he’s gonna let Jim do this without someone willing to yell at him for risking his own neck.

“Begging the Admiral’s pardon,” Saavik stood abruptly from the captain’s chair. “General Order 15: No flag officer shall beam into a hazardous area without armed escort.”

“There’s no such regulation,” he frowned. Her eyes narrowed. “Alright, join the party. Mr. Spock, the ship is yours.”

“Jim, be careful,” Spock said.

McCoy stopped. “We will,” he said emphatically. Spock raised an eyebrow.

* * *

 

“Indeterminate life signs,” Saavik read from her tricorder.

“Phasers on stun,” Jim said. “Move out.”

They split up and branched out into three different hallways. It wasn’t long before—

“Jim!” McCoy yelled.

They had found the scientists. Strung up by their ankles from the ceiling and dripping blood from seemingly everywhere. They set to work bringing the bodies down.

“Well, rigor hasn’t set in. This couldn’t have happened too long ago, Jim,” McCoy pronounced.

“Carol,” he said under his breath. She hadn’t been found yet.

“Admiral, over here,” Saavik called. She was standing before a crate that her tricorder said contained life forms. It was sealed with an encrypted lock from the inside, but if anyone could hack it, it would be the infamous Admiral Kirk.

Jim came over, stared at it for a few seconds, and then punched the keypad, shattering the delicate controls and causing the box to automatically open.

There was Chekov.

“Oh sir, it was Khan,” he said, scrambling out, Terrell right behind him. His voice was shaking. Jim held him gently by the shoulders. “We found him on Ceti Alpha V.”

“Easy, easy, Pav.”

“He put creatures in our bodies to control our minds.”

“It’s alright. You’re safe now.” McCoy put a hand on his shoulder.

“Made us say lies, do things,” he said. “But we beat him. He thought he controlled us, but he did not. The Captain was strong.”

“Captain,” Jim said. “Where’s Dr. Marcus? Where are the Genesis materials?”

“He couldn’t find them. Even the data banks were empty,” Terrell said.

“Erased?”

Terrell didn’t quite look like he was fully there. “He tortured those people, but none of them would tell him anything. He went wild. He slit their throats. He wanted to tear the place apart. But he was too late. He had to get back to the Reliant in time to blow you to bits.”

“Where’s Reliant’s crew? Dead?” Saavik asked.

“Marooned on Ceti Alpha V,” he said. “He’s completely mad, Admiral. He blames you for the death of his wife.”

“I know what he blames me for,” he said. “The escape pods are all in place. Where’s the transporter room?”

* * *

 

“Admiral,” Saavik nodded towards the mysterious object at the back of the room. They had beamed down deep inside the small planetoid that Regula I orbited, going to the last coordinates plugged into the transporter. The machine had been left on when they found it. Nobody had remained to turn it off.

The scientists who had been tortured to death had given their lives so that others would have the time to escape.

Jim and McCoy approached the object and pushed back its steel casing. “Genesis, I presume,” Bones said.

A sound.

Jim whipped out his phaser and turned around, but not before a man slammed into him from behind and another pulled a phaser on the landing party, screaming “Phasers down!”

And then the two of them were fighting and the kid was good and just that—a kid. No older than Saavik or any of the cadets on the ship. And he had one hell of a left hook.

But he was not a cadet and he had no combat training and Jim had him doubled over in pain pretty quickly. “Where’s Dr. Marcus?” he asked.

 _“I’m_  Dr. Marcus!”

“Jim!” Carol called, hurrying into the room from out of hiding once she recognized his voice.

Jim looked at the kid, then at her, then back at the kid again. He let go of the man’s shirt and lowered his fist, horrified. This was…

This was David.

He had known about David’s existence. Thank God. Carol had allowed him that much. But he had never met him. Never even received any holograms. He’d had no idea what the kid looked like until now.

He was tall with curly blond hair and dark blue eyes. A doctor. Already. He clearly had his mother’s intellect.

And his father’s bruises on his body.

Jim took several steps back in horror, stumbling his way over to Carol. He didn’t particularly care about anything else at the moment. Dr. Marcus. “Is that David?” he asked, voice something akin to awe but a bit more appalled.

“Mother, he killed everybody we left behind!”

“Of course he didn’t. David, you’re just making this harder.”

“I’m afraid it’s even harder than you think, Doctor,” Terrell said. He and Chekov raised their phasers. “Please don’t move.”

“Chekov,” Jim said.

“I’m… sorry, Admiral.”

“Your Excellency, have you been listening?” Terrell asked into his comm.

“I have indeed, Captain. You have done well,” Khan replied.

“I knew it. You son of a bitch!” David rushed Terrell, only to be tackled to the ground by Saavik. The reflexive phaser shot went wide, and David’s friend vaporized in a flash of light.

“Don’t move! Anyone!” Terrell shouted.

“Captain? We are waiting,” Khan said. “What’s the delay?”

“All is well, sir. You have the coordinates to beam up Genesis.”

“First things first, Captain,” he said slowly. “Kill Admiral Kirk.”

Chekov’s hands shook on the grip of his phaser.

“Sir, it is difficult. I—“ Terrell started apologetically. “I try to obey, but—“

“Kill him,” Khan ordered.

Terrell faltered. Then, in a flash of fury, he ripped the comm bracelet off with his teeth and gripped at his skull, screaming. There was the high-pitched whine of some smaller creature screaming too. He fell to the ground, and still the phaser stayed leveled at Kirk.

“Kill him, Terrell, now.”

He was shaking with every part of his body as he forced his hand to turn the phaser around and point it at his own self. He died with a scream.

Chekov sank to the floor, gasping, a hand clutching at the back of his head. He mercifully fell unconscious. The creature slithered out of his ear in a trail of blood. A parasite has minutes or seconds to exit a dying host before death takes them as well, and staying in a host who would rather die than be Khan’s pawn was a bad survival tactic.

“God’s sakes!” McCoy said, staring down at the awful creature.

“What is it?” David asked, ever curious.

Kirk shot it with his phaser. The thing caught fire and leaked a putrid green fluid that stunk up the entire hallway.

He yanked up Terrell’s discarded comm bracelet. “Khan, you bloodsucker! You’re gonna have to do your own dirty work now! Do you hear me? Do you?!”

“Kirk,” he said. His voice held awe and something almost like respect, the respect of finally meeting a worthy opponent. “Kirk, you’re still alive, my old friend.”

“Still, old friend,” he said, voice absolutely venomous. “You’ve managed to kill just about everyone else, but like a poor marksman, you keep missing the target.”

“Perhaps I no longer need to try, Admiral.”

The glowing light of a transporter beam encased the Genesis device.

“No!” David rushed forward, as if to physically grab it and hold it down, but Carol and Saavik held him back and prevented him from being beamed aboard the Reliant. “Let go! He can’t take it!”

But it was already gone.

“Khan,” Kirk said. “Khan, you’ve got Genesis, but you don’t have me. You’re going to kill me, Khan, you’re going to have to come down here. You’re going to have to come down here.”

“I’ve done far worse than kill you,” he said. “I’ve hurt you. And I wish to go on hurting you. I shall leave you as you left me, as you left her. Marooned for all eternity in the center of a dead planet. Buried alive.”

* * *

 

“This is Lieutenant Saavik, calling Enterprise. Can you read us?” she asked yet again, sitting boredly on the ground now. “This is Lieutenant Saavik, calling Enterprise. Can you read us?”

“He’s coming around. Pavel?” Jim asked, kneeling next to the unconscious body, McCoy joining him.

“Can you read us?” she asked one last time. “It’s no use, Admiral. They’re still jamming all channels.”

“If the Enterprise followed her orders, she’s long since gone. If she couldn’t obey, she’s finished,” Bones said. Jim had told Spock to leave without them if they had no communication within one hour. It had been far longer than one hour. Either the Enterprise had left or been finished off by the Reliant, and either way, the ship was gone and they were stranded.

“So are we, looks like,” Jim said.

“I don’t understand. Who’s responsible for all this? Who is Khan?” Carol asked.

“Well, it’s a long story,” Jim said.

“We appear to have plenty of time,” David said.

Jim ignored that. “Is there anything to eat? I don’t know about anybody else, but I’m starved.” Failing communication with the Enterprise, securing a reliable food supply should be first priority.

“How can you think of food at a time like this?” Bones asked.

How could he not? Who knows how long they would be down here? Jim may have been speaking hyperbolically, but that was a real possibility that they could end up facing very shortly. They could starve.

“First order of business, survival,” he said.

“There’s food in the Genesis cave. Enough to last a lifetime, if necessary,” Carol said.

“We thought this was Genesis?” Bones said.

“This?” Carol looked around and scoffed. “It took the Starfleet Corps of Engineers ten months in spacesuits to tunnel out all this. What we did in there, we did in a day. David, why don’t you show Dr. McCoy and the lieutenant our idea of food?”

“We can’t just sit here,” David protested.

Jim put on his glasses to look at his watch. “Oh, yes we can.”

“This is just to give us something to do, isn’t it?” He stood up huffily and started walking. “Come on.” Bones followed him, but Saavik hung back for a moment.

“Admiral?”

“As your father Spock is fond of saying, ‘I’d like to think there always are possibilities.’”

She pondered his cryptic human response and followed after David, after her half-brother that she didn’t know she had. And then Jim was alone with Carol and an unconscious Chekov. He waited until she was out of Vulcan earshot before speaking again.

“I did what you wanted. I stayed away,” he said. It was everything he could do to keep his voice from cracking. “Why didn’t you tell him?”

Carol sighed. “How can you ask me that?” she asked. “Were we together? Were we going to be? You had your world and I had mine. And I wanted him in mine, not chasing through the universe with his father.” She stood and slipped on her jacket. “Actually, he’s a lot like you in many ways.”

Jim stared blankly into space.

“Please tell me what you’re feeling,” she said.

“There’s a man out there I haven’t seen in fifteen years who’s trying to kill me. You show me a son that’d be happy to help him,” he said. “My son. My life that could have been and wasn’t. What am I feeling?”

He paused for a poignant moment.

“Old.”

* * *

 

It was after Spock’s miraculous rescue and Kirk’s against-all-odds victory that everything went to shit. Khan’s vessel was dead in space, and so was most of his crew. The man was halfway there himself. But apparently not done fighting.

“Admiral, scanning an energy source on Reliant, a pattern I’ve never seen before,” Spock read out from the console. David peered over his shoulder.

“It’s the Genesis wave,” he said.

“What?” Jim asked.

“They’re on a build-up to detonation.”

“How soon?”

“We encoded four minutes.”

“We’ll beam aboard and stop it.”

David grabbed his arm. “You can’t.”

Kirk turned back to the comm. “Scotty, I need warp speed in three minutes or we’re all dead.”

* * *

 

After it all ended, David approached Saavik.

“So,” he said. “Do you know the admiral well?”

“Yes,” she said. “He is my father.”

“Your father?” His eyes widened. “He’s my father too.”

“What.”

“My mother just told me. I don’t know why she never… said anything before. But yeah, Admiral Kirk is my father. He doesn’t know that I know,” he said. “I guess that makes you my sister.”

“Half-sister,” she corrected.

He nodded, thinking about that. He knew that Kirk was married to Spock, his former first officer and a professor at the Academy. So Saavik couldn’t be their biological child, at least not both of their’s.

Apparently Kirk made a habit of knocking up women and then leaving them. Looks like one of them had stuck him with the kid, though.

“You’re in the same situation with him as I am,” he said ponderously.

“No, I am not. The admiral is not my biological father. I am adopted, as is my sister T’Manda.”

“Adopted?” he asked. So Kirk had ditched Carol with a baby on her hip and then actually gone and chosen to have other children of his own? What, did he just not want to raise David in particular?

“Yes. He rescued me as part of a covert operations mission. I owe him my life. And then he adopted me to keep me out of the foster care system. He is a good man. I’m sure if it had been in any way possible, he would have wanted to be involved in your life as well.”

David considered that. And he realized he had a lot more questions.

* * *

 

All Jim wanted to do was sit down and curl up with a good book. He put on his glasses, only to frown and take them back off again. One of the lenses was shattered.

Figures.

David entered the room. “I don’t mean to intrude…”

“No, not at all. I should be on the bridge.” He picked up his jacket and made to leave. David stepped closer.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?”

“I poured myself a drink. Would you like it?” Jim asked. He wasn’t nervous. He was the captain of a starship, dammit, he’d had multiple near-death experiences that very day without ever flinching. He did not get nervous talking to his own son.

His own son that he had never seen before a few hours ago and who didn’t know they were related.

“Lieutenant Saavik was right,” David said. “You never have faced death.”

He sat back down. “No, not like this. I haven’t faced death. I’ve cheated death. I’ve tricked my way out of death and patted myself on the back for my ingenuity,” he said. “I know nothing.”

David took the seat beside him. “You knew enough to tell Saavik that how we face death is at least as important as how we face life.”

So they had talked.

“Just words.”

“But good words.”

Weren’t they an expressive duo.

“That’s where ideas begin. Maybe you should listen to them,” David said. “I was wrong about you and I’m sorry.” He stood.

“Is that what you came here to say?” Jim asked.

“Mainly,” he said. “And also that I’m proud—very proud to be your son.”

Jim’s mouth worked but no words came out. He decided to forego them entirely and wrapped his son in a soft hug.


	6. David Marcus, Part 2

“Commander, I don’t understand. The Enterprise is not—“ Jim started.

“Jim, the Enterprise is twenty years old. We feel her day is over.”

“But we had requested—“ he swallowed. “We’d hoped to take her back to Genesis.”

Genesis. A word that had a new meaning now. The detonation from Khan’s ship had blasted its materials into space and accidentally terraformed a nearby lifeless planet, turning it into something that not only sustained life, but was overflowing with it—a paradise planet, essentially.

“That is out of the question.”

“May I ask why?”

“In your absence, Genesis has become a galactic controversy. Until the Federation Council makes policy, you are all under orders not to discuss with anyone your knowledge of Genesis. Consider it a quarantined planet and a forbidden subject.”

* * *

 

“We have reached destination planet at 0.035,” Saavik said.

“Very well, lieutenant,” said Esteban. “Helm, execute standard orbital approach.”

“Standard orbit. Aye sir.”

“Communications, send a coded message to Starfleet Command, priority one. Federation science vessel Grissom arriving at Genesis planet, Mutara Sector to begin research. J.T. Esteban, commanding.”

“Aye, sir. Coding now.”

“Dr. Marcus, it’s your planet,” Esteban said.

“Begin scanning,” David said through a smile. Saavik fiddled with the controls of her science station. “This is where the fun begins, Saavik.”

“Just like your father. So human,” she said without even looking up. He glanced over at her from another control panel he was monitoring. 

“All units functional. Recorders are on. Scanning Sector 1,” she said. “Foliage in fully-developed state of growth. Temperature: 22.2 Celsius.”

“Sector 2 indicating desert terrain. Minimal vegetation. Temperature—39.4,” David read off from his sensor. 

“Sector 3, subtropical vegetation. Temperature decreasing rapidly,” Saavik said. David leaned over her chair to examine the equipment.

“It’s snow. Snow in the same sector! Fantastic,” he said.

“Fascinating,” Saavik said.

“All the varieties of land and weather known to Earth within a few hours’ walk.”

“Metallic mass,” she said when the scanner beeped, indicating a foreign object.

“Close-range scan,” David suggested. “A photon tube. Gravitational fields were in flux. It must have soft-landed.” A remnant leftover from one of the torpedoes fired during battle.

“Encode to Starfleet. Photon tube located on Genesis’ surface,” Esteban said.

“Yes, sir. Coding your message,” an ensign said.

The word ‘lifeform’ flashed on Saavik’s screen directly on top of the tube.

“I don’t believe it. What is it?”

“If the equipment is functioning properly, indications are an animal life form,” she said. Esteban turned to Dr. Marcus.

“You said there wouldn’t be any,” he accused.

“There shouldn’t be any,” David said.

“Cross-referenced and verified. An unidentifiable lifeform reading,” Saavik said.

“Do you wish to advise Starfleet, sir?” an ensign asked.

“Wait a minute,” Esteban said. “We don’t know what we’re talking about here.”

“Why don’t we beam it up?” David asked.

“Oh no you don’t. Regulations specifically state nothing shall be beamed aboard until danger of contamination has been eliminated.”

“Captain, the logical alternative is obvious. Beaming down to the surface is permitted,” Saavik said.

 _“If_  the captain decides that the mission is vital and reasonably free of danger.”

“Captain, please, we’ll take the risk, but we’ve gotta find out what it is,” David pleaded.

* * *

 

Saavik and David beamed down into the rainforest section of the planet. They were surrounded by green leaves and white mists. Trees towered higher than the eye could see, ferns and bushes reaching up higher than they stood tall.

“Grissom to Saavik. Picking up radiation from the lifeform,” Esteban said over the comm.

“Affirmative, Captain. Our readings are well below danger level,” she said.

“Very well. Exercise caution, Lieutenant. This landing is captain’s discretion, and I’m the one who’s out on a limb.”

That was funny, because Saavik was the one hiking through an unknown jungle towards a semi-radioactive alien lifeform while the captain sat up safe inside his ship. She estimated she was getting better at understanding the human concept of humor.

This had never been how Jim had run his ship. But if she compared every captain she served under to her father, she imagined she was going to be perpetually disappointed.

“I’ll try to remember that, Captain,” she said.

They found the photon tube sitting on a bed of ferns and woven vines. Small, fleshy pink creatures writhed underneath it in the mud. They made a slight hissing screech as they moved around one another.

“There are your life forms,” David said. “These were microbes on the tube’s surface. We shot them here from the Enterprise.” He snapped off his tricorder. “They multiplied.”

“But how could they have evolved so quickly?” she asked.

Suddenly, the ground shook and a massive wind swept through the forest, carrying with it the sound of a deep roaring howl. They looked at each other, and then headed in its direction.

* * *

 

There was snow on the cacti. A lot of snow on the cacti. They had reached the ends of the rainforest and escaped the earthquake only to catch the tail end of a snowstorm in the desert. It had only been minutes, but already nearly three inches had fallen.

“Saavik to Grissom. We are definitely reading a second lifeform,” she said.

“We concur. Proceed with caution, Saavik.”

They continued trudging through what was now the tundra, all of the cacti fully covered in snow and disguised.

The snowstorm escalated into a blizzard and the tundra changed to mountains. Saavik decided she would sell her soul for a hat and a pair of gloves. Both of them had snow flurries caught in the curls of their hair, too cold for it to melt even against the heat of their bodies. Their hands and ears and cheeks and noses were flushed with their appropriate shades of blood. Movement was getting slower and slower, but David graciously pretended it wasn’t and let Saavik continue to lead.

She could not feel her feet. She kept tripping because of this.

Finally, the tricorder led them to a huddled mass making soft whimpering sounds.

It was unlike any creature either of them had ever seen. Its body was round and covered in long brown fur. It had two droopy ears and big, dark eyes. Its legs were short and squat, and the thing seemed unsteady on them, as if it was young and first learning how to walk.

Maybe it was.

“Fascinating,” she said. She approached the creature slowly so as not to frighten it. She held out her hand for it to sniff. Its nose was cold and wet. It gradually grew accustomed to her scent and nuzzled against her hand. She moved to scratch it behind the ear, and the creature let loose a loud rumbling purr and flopped onto its back. Saavik obliged, rubbing its stomach.

“It likes you,” David said.

“It appears to,” she agreed.

“The Genesis wave. It’s causing rapid evolution. Little guy must have got caught in the photon tube and died when it fired. His cells could have regenerated.”

“Hers,” Saavik said, stroking near the creature’s temple. “Her name is Mrs. Flufferson and she used to be a tribble. She lived with Ensign Wu.”

“How do you know that?”

It appeared that David did not know much about his half-sister’s species. “I speak tribble,” she said.

“You do not.”

“I do too.”

“Saavik, that’s literally impossible. Tribbles don’t have a spoken language.”

“Oh really?” she asked. “Watch. Mrs. Flufferson is going to lift up her right paw twice to indicate that she understands me.” She made some random purring noises and clicks, still petting the tribble’s head. The tribble obliged, faintly amused at the game.

David’s jaw went lax. “But that’s impossible. Universal translators don’t work—“ His eyes narrowed. “You’re using Vulcan magic.”

“Vulcans do not practice magic.”

“Your species can communicate with animals somehow and you’re using that to mess with me.”

“Your human humor concepts escape me,” she said, shaking her head and pulling out her comm unit. “Captain, this is Saavik. Come in please.”

“Yes, Saavik, go ahead.”

“We have found the life sign. It is a mutant tribble from aboard the Enterprise.”

“A tribble? How did he get there?”

“It is Dr. Marcus’ opinion that she wandered into a photon tube before one of the battles against the Reliant and was fired along with the torpedo. She remained in the casing as it fell to the planet, and was exposed to the Genesis wave, which reanimated her cells.”

“Uh… Saavik, that’s extraordinary. What would you like to do next?”

“Request permission to beam aboard immediately.”

“Saavik, does Dr. Marcus think there could be any chance of, uh, radioactive contamination?”

She looked to him, and he shook his head. “No.”

“None that he can detect, sir.”

“All the same, I’m going to advise Starfleet and get instructions.”

“I’m sure Starfleet would approve, sir.” Especially if the admiral he got ahold of was her dad, who was informed that she was being kept down in a blizzard until the captain gave the go-ahead.

“Probably true, but let’s do it by the book. Stand by on this channel. Go,” Esteban nodded to his communications officer.

“Starfleet Command, this U.S.S. Grissom on subspace coded channel 98.8. Come in, please.” A loud electric whir came from his console. “Sir, something is jamming our transmission—an energy surge.”

“Locate,” he snapped.

“Surge from astern, Captain.”

They never saw the Klingons coming until it was too late. A bright flash of bluish-white light lit up the sky as the ship exploded, debris and bodies raining down to burn up in the atmosphere.

“No,” David said, because maybe it wasn’t what it looked like.

“Saavik calling Grissom. Come in, please,” she said desperately. “Grissom, this Saavik on emergency frequency. Come in, please.”

“Saavik, what happened to them?” David asked.

“It would seem that Grissom was destroyed by an enemy attack,” she said, rising and hauling David to his feet by the arm. “We must go. They will soon come after us.”

* * *

 

They trudged for what felt like hours before taking shelter behind some snow-covered redwoods. They sat down to rest in the blissful reprieve from the wind.

“It is time for total truth between us,” Saavik said. “This planet is not what you intended or hoped for, is it?”

“Not exactly,” he said.

“Why?”

“I used protomatter in the Genesis matrix.”

“Protomatter. An unstable substance which every ethical scientist in the galaxy has denounced as dangerously unpredictable.”

“But it was the only way to solve certain problems,” he said quietly.

“So, like your father, you changed the rules,” she said. Only his choice had not been in a simulation. It had not been harmless. It had created an unstable planet, and he was lucky that that was all.

“If I hadn’t, it might have been years, or never!”

“How many have paid the price for your impatience? How many have died? How much damage have you done? And how much more will happen yet?”

He had no response.

* * *

 

They made camp in a cave in a spot that had suddenly no snow. Night seemed to fall within a matter of minutes, all at once.

“This planet’s aging in surges,” David muttered, staring at his tricorder.

“And the tribble with it. It seems they’re joined together.”

“They are.”

“How long?”

“Days. Maybe hours,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

His tricorder beeped as three life signs came into range. They both looked across the plains and saw them in the distance. “Whoever they are, they’re getting closer.”

“I’ll go,” Saavik said.

“No,” he said. “I’ll do it. Give me your phaser.”

She gave him a hard look, then nodded. His planet, his fault, his risk. She handed it over.

* * *

 

She was sleeping when a Klingon grabbed her by the front of her shirt and yanked her up roughly. She was marched to a clearing and thrown to the ground beside David.

“So,” the Klingon leader said. “I’ve come a long way for the power of Genesis, and what do I find? A weakling human and a woman.”

“My lord, we are survivors of a doomed expedition. This planet will destroy itself in hours. The Genesis experiment is a failure,” Saavik said.

“A failure?” he said. “The most powerful, destructive force ever created.” He approached them slowly. “You will tell me the secret of the Genesis torpedo.”

“I do not know it,” she said.

“Then I hope pain is something you enjoy,” he smirked. She gave him an almost pitying look. If she were human, she would roll her eyes.

One of his soldiers said something in Klingon and handed over a communicator. “I ordered no interruptions,” he barked. Then, seconds later, “Bring me up.”

“Grissom, this is Enterprise calling. Please come in,” Kirk’s voice filtered through the communicator. David and Saavik shared a look, David smiling by just a fraction.

* * *

 

 The ensuing battle fell into a ceasefire. “The enemy commander wishes a truce to confer.”

“Put him on screen.”

“This is Admiral James T. Kirk of the Federation Starship Enterprise.”

“So. The Genesis commander himself,” the Klingon said.

“A violation of treaty between the Federation and the Klingon Empire. Your presence here is an act of war. You have two minutes to surrender you crew and your vessel, or we will destroy you.”

He was bluffing and the Klingon knew it.

“Admiral Kirk, this is your opponent speaking. Do not lecture me about treaty violations. The Federation, in creating an ultimate weapon, has become a gang of interstellar criminals. It is not I who will surrender. It is you!” he said. Jim refused to react, unflinching. “On the planet below, I have two prisoners from the team who developed your doomsday weapon. If you do not surrender immediately, I will execute them one at a time as enemies of galactic peace.”

“Who is this? How dare you take prisoners,” Jim said.

“Who I am is not important. That I have them is,” he said. “I will allow you to speak to them.”

On the planet, Saavik was pulled to her feet by the collar of her jacket and a comm was shoved in her face. “Admiral, this is Lieutenant Saavik.”

“Saavik,” Jim said. No. Not her. “Is David with you?”

“Yes. He is.” The comm was passed to him now.

“Hello, sir. It’s David,” he said. Professionals talking. Adults who knew each other only as colleagues. That was important.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” Jim said.

“it’s okay. I should’ve known you’d come. Saavik’s right. This planet is unstable. It’s gonna destroy itself in a matter of hours.”

“David, what went wrong?”

He shifted. He couldn’t say that he used protomatter. He wouldn’t give the Klingons that much. “I went wrong.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I’m sorry, sir. Just don’t surrender. Genesis doesn’t work. I can’t believe they’d kill us for it,” he said. The Klingon snapped the communicator away.

“Admiral, your young friend is mistaken. I meant what I said. And now, to show that my intentions are sincere, I shall kill one of the prisoners,” the commander said.

“Wait a minute! Give me a chance to talk—“

* * *

 

The guard unsheathed his dagger. He walked around the two of them in slow circles, a predator toying with captive prey. He stood behind Saavik, dagger raised over her back, and—

David lunged at the guard at the last second, tackling him to the ground. The scuffle lasted all of eight seconds before the knife was plunged straight into his heart.

* * *

 

“Admiral, David is dead,” she said. Her eyes were shining with unshed tears but she kept her voice steady.

Jim sank to the floor of the bridge, unable to support himself any longer. “You Klingon bastard, you’ve killed my son,” he breathed. Then stronger. “You Klingon bastard, you’ve killed my son!”

The way Bones and Scotty were looking at him now. At their valiant captain, flat on his ass, sobbing into a comm unit.

He pushed himself up. “You Klingon bastard.”

“There is another prisoner, Admiral. Do you want her killed too?” he asked. “Surrender your vessel.”

“Alright. Alright, damn you. Alright,” he said. He had never sounded so weak before, so helpless. “Give me a minute to inform my crew.”

* * *

 

Kirk usually regretted taking lives. But when he watched the Enterprise explode with all the Klingons on board, he felt nothing. Nothing but grim satisfaction.

There is an old proverb that says revenge is a dish best served cold.


	7. Final Exam

“Cadets, today you will be taking the command track final exam. Now, this is a practical exam. What that means is you will be running an actual mission on an actual ship. Cadets from other specialties will make up the rest of your bridge crew. You will be paired off into command teams and assigned a ship. Listen to hear your name be called. Anderson, Samuel—captain. Azininyan, Ialoven—first officer. USS Altair.”

The list went on and on with painstaking slowness. Cadets chattered away excitedly, exclaiming over the ship they got and linking up with their command partner. Saavik sat perfectly still and alert, fingers gripping the edge of her seat tight enough to leave indents.

And then finally—

“Kirk, Saavik—captain. Kramer, Elizabeth—first officer. USS Excelsior.”

* * *

 

“Assume orbit,” Saavik commanded.

“Coming into orbit now, Captain,” the helmsman replied.

She pressed a button on her chair. “Send a xenosociologist and two security officers to the transporter room. Kramer, you’re with me.” She turned on her heel and headed to the turbolift, her first officer following close behind.

The doors closed behind the two of them. “This is exciting, isn’t it?” Kramer asked.

“Exciting?” They were in a turbolift. It was nerve-wracking, maybe, but she had thought that was only for her. And Dr. McCoy, when he’s having a particularly technophobic day.

“You know, first contact, going on our first real mission.”

“Oh,” she said. And then, “This isn’t my first real mission.”

“Really?” Kramer’s eyes narrowed, disbelieving.

“I was part of the trainee crew that went on the Genesis expedition.”

“Woah, wait, seriously?!”

“Yes, very seriously.”

“Wow,” she said. “Okay, I have to ask—your last name is Kirk, right? Any chance you’re related to Admiral Kirk?” She’d heard somewhere that he’d married a Vulcan, but that was really all that she knew about the admiral’s personal affairs, despite him being everyone’s—herself included—favorite Starfleet bigwig. He was the guy who would let you get away with anything, and he’d approve all the too-risky missions that no other admiral was willing to put their name onto.

It was going to get him demoted one of these days, if not fired. Everyone but Kirk himself seemed to know that. Until then, he was beloved.

“Yes. He is my father.”

“Wow. I guess this really is everyday for you. That must have been so cool. Did you grow up on the Enterprise then?”

“Yes,” she said. “And it was cool.”

She got reactions like this a lot, especially with her going into command track. People heard the last name Kirk and expected Greatness, The Sequel. And she didn’t resent her dad in any way for it, but the message from all of her professors was pretty clear—she had big shoes to fill. And maybe they didn’t consciously realize it, but her professors seemed to push her harder than the other students, expect more out of her, demand better.

Thankfully, Saavik was up to the challenge.

“What about you? What inspired you to join Starfleet?” she asked.

Kramer’s mouth twitched. “I just wanted to get out and see the stars,” she said, facing forward. The turbolift came to a halt and she strode off onto the transporter pad. Saavik frowned slightly, then followed.

* * *

 

The planet was covered in jagged mountains of blue and purple rock. There were steep cliffs and canyons and tall spires and arches extending out for miles and miles, until it stretched out into a cold, purple-sand desert.

“It’s beautiful,” Kramer breathed. Saavik couldn’t help but agree.

“Let’s get going,” she said, reluctantly, leading the landing party down a narrow mountain path, kicking up indigo dust on her boots along the way.

The people here were cave-dwellers and had high-tech cities buried deep in the mountains, under too much rock for them to beam to directly. They had been given very detailed directions however, and told that a guide would meet them at the entrance to the caves but no closer. These people had not left their caves in generations, and when they had, it was only in the safety of their new starships. They were now entirely light-averse and agoraphobic.

The path they were on was ill-traveled and ancient, barely visibly. In some places they had to guess entirely where it went next and hope they found it again up ahead. It wasn’t that much of a problem, until—

“Oh, I am not crossing that,” the xenosociologist said.

The bridge had to be three hundred years old at the minimum—that was when the G’desh had gone into seclusion. But looking at its condition, it wasn’t hard to envision it being even older than that. The vine-woven ropes that held it up were molding and threadbare with age. The wooden planks were crumbling and broken, warped and eaten through with rot. Some of them were missing or barely hanging on, leaving large gaps.

But not too large.

“I apologize, but you’re going to have to,” Saavik said. She hoped she sounded braver than she felt. That was one hell of a canyon underneath the bridge. She thought she heard water rushing at the bottom, but it was too far distant to be sure. “You will go first, then Ensign Buhv’vandel, Ensign Smith, First Officer Kramer, then myself.”

She knew the extended pressure on the ropes would increase the risk of them giving out. She saved the greatest amount of risk for herself by making sure the rest of the landing party crossed first, though Lieutenant Philips looked terrified at the prospect. A captain always put the crew ahead of herself. The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few. Her fathers would be proud.

Lieutenant Phillips crossed in nervous, halting steps. The security ensign didn’t step on until she was nearly at the other end, and the others followed suit. Saavik was just a few feet on and Kramer was about to step off when suddenly the bridge gave out, Kramer’s end swinging like a pendulum downward and crashing into the cliff. A bloodcurdling scream sounded, and then cut out with a sickening splash.

Saavik kept her grip on the rails of the rope. She could easily haul herself back up onto the cliff. Or.

Or she could rescue her fucking crewman.

She ducked her head up. “Go on without me. Get to the caves, find another way to access this canyon, then send out a rescue party,” she called out across the gap.

“What do you mean go on without you—“

She loosened her grip and  _slid_  down the vines, catching herself at the last minute, just before the rope ended.

There was about thirty feet left before the river. The rapid, shallow, icy-looking river. She steeled herself and pushed off the cliff, springboarding into a dive straight in the center of the gorge. She cut through the water like a scalpel and quickly pushed back up the surface.

There. Kramer was 50.36 feet ahead, clinging to a fallen log that had lodged itself in the riverbank.

The water around her was red.

Saavik kicked powerfully, ignoring every desert-born instinct that screamed at her to get out of the water. She grabbed Kramer by the arm and pulled her, half-conscious, onto the bank.

Kramer coughed up water and gasped into consciousness.

“Where are you hurt?” Saavik asked tersely.

“My collarbone, god…”

Saavik quickly pulled back her collar. Kramer’s clavicle was a shattered mess. It was a thorough, jagged break, bone splintering through the skin. Blood was gushing out at an inordinate rate. It was right in between her throat and her heart, dirt and river grime smeared into the wound painfully.

“I’m going to have to set it,” Saavik warned her. Kramer gave a short nod. She placed her hands on the two halves.

“Wait! Can I have—something to bite down on?”

She nodded and scanned down the beach. There were rocks. More rocks. A thornbush. And then, shockingly, more rocks.

She handed her a rock.

Kramer laughed, a bit hysterically. “You know, there’s an old Earth saying. ‘Bite the bullet.’ It comes from wartime in the past, when they would do surgeries without anesthesia. Soldiers would have to bite down on bullets so they didn’t shatter their own teeth from clenching them too hard when the pain got too intense. I guess this is a bit like that.”

Saavik paused. “There is a Vulcan method—I can put you to sleep, if you wish.”

“Do it,” Kramer said without hesitation. Saavik placed her hand on her meld points and whispered “Sleep.” She was out in an instant.

She set the break in place, aligning the two halves of bone. She used her switchblade to shave thorns off a stick from the center of the thornbush and placed it alongside Kramer’s collarbone. She tore the useless shirt sleeve off from that side and cut it into strips, to be used in tying the stick to her and hopefully acting as bandages at least somewhat.

Kramer slept fitfully through the night, shaking and in cold sweats. Saavik kept dampening a strip of cloth to put on her forehead, but it wasn’t doing much good. She needed a bone knitter, a dermal regenerator, and a fully-equipped sickbay to flush the setting infection out. She needed the rescue party. She needed them to have arrived hours ago.

“Saavik,” she said, during one of her brief bouts of wakefulness. “It’s okay if I call you Saavik, right?”

“Yes, of course,” she said, concerned. “What is it?”

“You remember in the turbolift earlier, when you asked me why I joined Starfleet?” she asked.

“Yes?”

“It wasn’t because I wanted to see the stars. I did it to get away. My dad, he was—an asshole,” she said. “I did it to get away.”

Her eyes closed again, but it seemed different this time and her words seemed final and fear spiked through Saavik’s chest. “Kramer, stay awake. Keep your eyes open.”

She laughed wetly. “Call me Liz.”

“Fine then. First Officer Liz, you are forbidden to fall asleep and that’s an order.”

Liz laughed again, then coughed, then she couldn’t stop coughing and blood was coming up. “Think I hurt my ribs too. Not feeling so hot.”

“Just hold out for a little bit longer. The rescue party will be here any minute.”

“It’s been hours. They’re not coming.”

“Yes, they are, it’s just taking them a while,” she said, voice clipped. “Liz! Keep your eyes open.”

“Yes, Captain,” she smiled faintly and obediently opened her eyes, latching them on to Saavik’s. Her throat felt tight all of a sudden.

“I’m going to build a fire,” she said, standing up and brushing herself off. She tore off strips from the bottom of her pants to use as tinder and set them at the bottom of the thornbush, using two rocks to make a spark and light it.

“A burning thornbush,” Liz said sleepily. “Y’know, if we lived in Bible times, that would mean we were about to see God.”

“If at any point you see God, turn around and go the other way,” Saavik said firmly.

Liz laughed. “Are you telling me to go to hell, Captain?” 

“I did not mean it like that.”

“I know, I know. ‘Don’t go into the light’ and all that. I’m just teasing ya.”

Saavik suppressed the green that threatened to color her cheeks.

“Hey! I think I see something!” a distant voice shouted. Running footsteps thudded towards them.

The rescue party had arrived.

* * *

 

Saavik was the third cadet in Starfleet history to graduate having already earned a medal for valor. Unlike her father, however, she wasn’t given her own ship right out of the gate. She started out as an ensign and had to work her way up.

It was worth, years later, standing in that auditorium with everyone she cared about watching. The day that Kirk retired.

“I relieve you, sir,” Saavik said.

Her father smiled. “I am relieved.”


	8. Jim's Death

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for character death, in case that wasn't obvious enough.
> 
> This follows the plot of Star Trek: Generations basically, and I promise the next few chapters will be super fluffy to make up for it

James Kirk was the man who died three times.

Once, in his youth, he was killed by Khan. He died saving his ship.

Later, after he retired, he was taken on one last trip around Earth’s solar system to commemorate the new captain and the newly refitted Enterprise. It was supposed to be simple, just a quick, celebratory trip around the block.

They got a distress call from two refugee ships trapped in a gravimetric distortion, and of course they answered it. Just not in time. They saved 47 out of 400, watched the explosion of both ships, and were helpless as the Enterprise was pulled into the energy ribbon right after.

It was Kirk’s idea to use the navigational deflectors to simulate the force of a photon torpedo blast and push them free. So he goes down to the deflector control himself and makes the modifications.

The hull got ripped out of that section while he was in the room. For the second time in his life, Kirk died saving his ship.

Only he didn’t die.

The energy ribbon that had pulled them in was a timeless dreamscape called the Nexus where all of your dreams came true, where it felt like being wrapped in pure bliss, like walking in joy.

While he was there, the Nexus showed him his farm back in Iowa, where he had retired and woke up next to Spock every day. It made Saavik and T’Manda live there too, to add to the bliss of the illusion. It was perfect. It was a dream. He never wanted to leave.

The Nexus was a timeless place where aging didn’t matter and decades passed in seconds, or seconds dragged on for decades—whatever you wanted. Eighty years had passed by the time Picard went into the Nexus himself and was shocked to find the legendary Captain Kirk there and very much alive.

He tells him the plan. He tells him of the El-Aurian refugee from that day who had been driven mad by his time in the Nexus and would stop at nothing to get back to it. He tells him that he needs to come back and help him stop Soran from blowing up the Veridian star.

So he does.

And he dies saving the 230,000,000 people living on Veridian IV.

He was buried in a shallow tomb of rocks on the mountains of Veridian III. His long-lived Vulcan family was informed by Picard personally.

They had already mourned him eighty years ago, and now to be told that he was alive that entire time…

T’Manda wrote a symphony. It was long and mournful and only ever played for her family.

Saavik took greater risks, pushed herself further, became determined to live up to her father’s legacy and be the best damn captain Starfleet had ever seen. She was brutal, self-punishing, unforgiving, constantly chasing the high of adrenaline.

She won medal after medal after medal. Starfleet decided to label her as brave and daring. In reality, everyone knew she was just a little bit too much like her dad.

Spock is barely past middle-aged and he feels so, so young.

He had vowed to love James Kirk for the rest of his life, and he knew that he would. He only wished he had been able to spend a greater portion of it with him.

He had always known he would outlive Jim. He hadn’t known it would happen so soon. He hadn’t known the years would pass so quickly. 

He had been cheated out of them prematurely.

He had retired from Starfleet when Jim had, and hadn’t been able to go back to it after. He became a goodwill ambassador who helped broker peace with the Klingon Empire.

He supposed he was technically following in his father’s footsteps. He would never admit it. His daughters teased him about it endlessly, especially having grown up hearing his often disparaging comments about diplomats. It had been somewhat childish and petty when he had been a Starfleet officer and his father a diplomat, but now, now it was horribly ironic and the girls never let him forget it.

* * *

 

It’s at the next Hanukkah when it really hits them.

It had been eighty years. Technically nothing had changed. It was illogical to act like something had.

But T’Manda is lighting the menorah and Saavik is tearing up and blushing furiously and can’t seem to stop either one.

“Saavik,” Spock says kindly. “What is the matter?”

“Nothing,” she said, wiping away tears quickly. “I was merely remembering our first Hanukkah at the starbase.”

Spock was silent. He suddenly felt so much older than just in his 140s. His very bones felt heavy.

Not having any words, he simply hugged Saavik instead.


	9. Grandpa Sarek

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Saavik goes through a Jim-induced phase. Also the basic idea for this chapter came from 3DBABE1999
> 
> Ko-fu-illar t’nash-veh = my granddaughters

Saavik sang along almost silently to the music in her headphones, staring out the window of the transport shuttle. At fourteen, she had recently discovered a taste for Terran music. Spock blamed Jim entirely. Jim had no shame and continuously introduced her to more and more outdated Earth bands from centuries ago.

At eight years old, T’Manda had decided that her cool older sister was her hero and was intensely interested in everything she did. She tugged on her sleeve. “What are you listening to?”

“Nirvana. Shh.”

T’Manda turned away, stung, and Spock took notice from the next row of seats.

“T’Manda,” he said. “Perhaps you would care to listen to some Vulcan music?”

She blinked. “That would be acceptable.”

He pulled up an audio file for a two-hour symphony on her padd and handed it back to her. She plugged in headphones and slipped them over her pointed ears. Spock could see the moment she pressed play, she was transformed. She had found a new passion.

The shuttle landed and the passengers disembarked into the thick heat of New Vulcan. Sarek was waiting for them. Spock would not insult him by saying he looked happy, but he did seem less stiff than usual.

“Ko-fu-illar t’nash-veh. It has been too long,” he said.

“Sarek, we come every year,” Jim said. “We can’t possibly come more often than that. It just doesn’t work.”

“You could if you made the appropriate effort,” he said.

“You get that I have a job, right? A ship to run?”

“Yes, and as the captain, you have the authority to self-authorize—“

“I believe we are impeding the way of other disembarking passengers. We should proceed to your house at once, Father,” Spock interrupted, having no desire to listen to this debate again, which they had Every. Single. Year.

* * *

 

“Hello girls,” Jim grinned when they got back from their day out with Sarek. “What’d you do today?”   
   
“We went shopping,” T’Manda said, placing a mountain of bags larger than she was on the table. Saavik was in a similar situation, and Sarek was—somehow—holding even more bags.

“What did you buy?” Jim asked, fearful. They did not have enough room for all that stuff in their quarters, no way. What had made Sarek think this was a good idea?

“Toys,” said T’Manda.

“And clothes,” Saavik added.

“I noticed during your previous visits that you dress my grandchildren entirely in replicated Terran clothing,” Sarek said, distaste dripping from his voice. “I thought it prudent to buy them traditional Vulcan robes, which I find to be much more appropriate.”

“Father, it was illogical to buy them this many toys. They cannot possibly use them all regularly.”

“It is important that children find mental stimulation through play activities, so therefore a large variety of toys is the height of logic.”

Spock looked at him with amusement in his eyes. “Of course, Father.”


End file.
